


Distraction

by Imitari



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bad Writing, Insecurity, M/M, Multi, a horrid pun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:03:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3267632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imitari/pseuds/Imitari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian and Cullen try to get the Inquisitor's attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, yeah. More sketchy writing.

"I don't think this is working," worries Cullen, staring with glazed eyes at the ceiling while Dorian sucks his way up the blond's jawline.

"Patience," growls the mage from he sits, astride the Commander's thighs as the other man lies strewn across the Inquisitor's bed, "This was your idea."

Cullen moves his head to bare more of his neck, resting his hands on Dorian's hips, "I didn't mean this."

"No?" Dorian licks an ear and then catches the lobe between his teeth.  Cullen grunts, "I t-thought maybe a walk or ... Ah."

"A walk?" Dorian pulls away and places his own hands on his hips, looking stern, "You want to distract our dear Inquisitor from his many duties and you think a walk is the best option?"

"Or chess," blushes Cullen, wriggling under Dorian's weight.  The mage's arse is snug against his groin, the heat of him through their trousers distracting and Dorian, based on his smirk, is well aware of what he's doing to Cullen's self-control.  

"I like chess," offers Maxwell blandly, seated at his desk.  Dorian glares at him from across the room, "Over sex? Heathen."

Maxwell gives them both a tired smile.  His desk is a mass of papers - reports, requisitions and letters full of flattery.  Cullen struggles upright or tries to, Dorian keeps him down with hand to his chest and a downward thrust of his hips. The Commander groans and goes limp.

"I - uh.  I like watching, too?" Maxwell's tone is conciliatory and maybe a little strangled.

"Be that as it may, amatus," says Dorian, making use of Cullen's amiability and shoving the Commander's tunic further up his torso, "It's getting rather lonely over here."

"I'd like you over here," confesses Cullen, squeaking a little when Dorian leans over to bite at an exposed nipple, "Help."

"Beg all you like, Commander," murmurs the mage.  At his desk, Maxwell sighs, his eyes drifting to the green glow of his left hand, "I'm not - certain."

"I seriously doubt you'll make a hole in the Fade if you join in," says Dorian as he places lazy kisses down Cullen's chest. Cullen squirms until he can see the Inquisitor, "You won't hurt us."

"Not intentionally," agrees Maxwell.

Cullen places a hand to Dorian's head and pushes gently until the other man stops, nose brushing along Cullen's belt.

"So we'll tie you up," says Cullen seriously.  Dorian laughs into his belly and Maxwell blushes.  Cullen goes red, "I-I mean.  We could tie your hand - Maker, stop laughing."

"But it was funny!" protests Dorian, prompting Cullen to roll them both over so he could pin the mage to the bed and make his own attack on Dorian's neck. Dorian takes advantage of their new position, removing the Commander's belt and holding it high.

"Come on, amatus.  We'll tie your hand to the bedpost."

"Please?" adds Cullen.

"Fine," sighs Maxwell, standing from his desk, "But if anything happens, it's on you two."

"Excellent," says Dorian, "I hope that's not all you plan to put on me."

His companions groan.


End file.
